


Maidentine's Day For a Mother Who Feels Like a Crone

by Ladeeknight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, Grumpy Sandor, Mirror Sex, Tired Sansa, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladeeknight/pseuds/Ladeeknight
Summary: Maidentine's Day is around the corner and Sandor gets an earful that makes him feel like he needs to take action. Modern AU exploring the ramifications of a "happy ending."
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 84
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is another attempt at a Holiday thing. Wish us all luck? There is already smut so Happy Valentine's Day. :)

Sandor clumped down the hallway feeling awkwardly out of place wearing his work boots in the fancy office. Luckily the expensive high pile carpeting in the offices of Winterfell Inc muffled the sound of his annoyance. While he is always happy to do anything for his lovely Little Bird, this errand was really going to throw his day off.  
"Don't you look lovely today, my dear. Going out after work for drinks?" A smarmy voice wafted out of Sansa's office and bored straight into Sandor's hind-brain. He'd been a fight looking for a place to happen on the drive over, and whoever this asshole was had ring the opening bell.  
Sansa's peel of incredulous laughter was like a bucket of water poured over his head. "Oh, no. We don't do that anymore. We're an old married couple now." Sad acceptance for the TKO.  
His wife's words stopped Sandor in the literal tracks he was making down the hall as if he'd been struck by a blow that nearly felled him. _Of course, we still..._ He wracked his brain. To be honest, he couldn't remember the last time they'd had sex, let alone gone out for drinks. No, he'd bent her over the bathroom counter sometime in the middle of last week. He remembered because his ambush had involved a lot of planning to catch her between putting the kids to sleep and taking a shower. _Did she cum?_ He'd thought at the time that she had, but hearing the slightly hysterical edge to her laughter just now made him doubt it. He'd snuck up on her while she was brushing her teeth. Her luscious ass was curving out of her too-small panties, and he helped himself to a hand full. When she hadn't slapped at his hand or scooted away, he'd hit his knees to get a mouthful. A lot of times, that got her thinking of other places slightly harder to reach places for him to put his mouth. This time she'd laughed and told him not to worry about her. That if he was quick about it, he could do as he pleased. Of course, he took that as a personal challenge, but it meant he couldn't use any of the usual tricks that were explicitly designed to get her off. He stood and moved, so the mirror reflected his good side, and then he gave her ass a little slap, and kept none of his awe at the fineness of her curves off his face. Sansa groaned around her tooth brush mid swipe, which was oddly hot. His cock twitched against her, and she ground herself against it. Sandor ripped the panties off her ass. She gasped, and he grinned unrepentedly as he pushed his fingers into her. Sansa was already surprisingly wet, but he wanted her to drip. He worked her making sure she could see his cock in the mirror. He could see her interested reflection, but she chirped, "really Sandor, she this one's for you." "But then I don't get to hear you sing." "I'll make all the noises. I just really need to get in the shower to I can get some sleep." In answer, he'd moved behind her and gently kicked her ankles apart. He lined his cock up to her shiny slit and looked up to find her eyes heavy-lidded with what he told himself was desire. Eye contact with her always heightened his pleasure, and he was glad of any form he could get as he pushed deep into to her. She groaned and spit out a glob of white stuff. For a moment, he was very disoriented, but he remembered she had been brushing her teeth. Still, he it fixed in his mind that the white spittle drip dangling from her plump pink half open lips was his. His cock throbbed deep inside her at the thought of having just cum in her mouth. Sandor slammed into her as she licked those lips. She moaned as she dropped her tooth brush in the sink to brace herself. He pushed her shirt up so he could see her tits bounce while he fucked her. In less than three minutes, she was screaming his name. He suspected she was just trying to make him cum faster so that she could get in the shower. Alas, it worked, as Sandor planted his hand in the small of Sansa's, back and gave into the high of fucking her just as he liked. Getting to see all his wet dreams come true in the mirror with her white-rimmed mouth open and gasping, and her pretty tits jiggling did not help extend his time. Within moments his fingers were digging into her ass, and he was pouring himself into her in great gushing jets of pleasure. As soon as he could see and make coherent sounds again, he'd asked her if she wanted to follow up under the hot water or if she'd just like to have her hair washed. The answer to all his suggestions had been an emphatic no. Sandor had reluctantly let her be, knowing that things were crazy at the office right now.  
Looking back on what now passed for their sex life had Sandor making vows that he usually never did. _That settles it, I'm calling the in-laws tonight. Maidentine's Day is coming up, and we need to get away to explore this list of things we "don't do anymore."_  
Sandor pasted his best impression of a smile on his face and went around the corner to discover who had just shot to the top of his shit list.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in the office. And Sansa's take on the sink sex and other sex from the past and future. I did not skimp on her contemplation on the subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feed back on the kids' deets and the story in general. This chapter was written at the same time as the first one and just needed touching up before publishing so I have not acted on your feed back yet. I have given it some thought and the kids are taking shape in my mind. I'm sure you'll love them as much as you do any other tots in a fic...lol. So without further ado, here is the angst fest that is the inside of Sansa mind.

Sansa felt a tightness her chest release as her husband stomped into her office. _He always comes through for me,_ she thought, her pulse hiking along with her skirt as she crossed her legs. Seeing Sandor's flushed face reminded her of their latest encounter even though she knew the color today came from anger, not passion. Still, the emotions were close kin on his dear, though not very mobile features as both emotions produced a warning tick at the corner of his mouth. Recalling his o-face from the bathroom mirror made her all squirmy. She'd worn a tight blue dress that zipped top-down and bottoms-up, hoping to induce similar activities tonight, hopefully in celebration of sealing this business deal. No doubt overhearing Petyr's none to subtle pass at her was what had Sandor so pissed. Sansa was also more than a little peeved, as she'd planned to invite her husband into the swanky private washroom attached to her office to thank him for bringing his keys by when she'd been such a feather brain and forgotten hers at home amid the morning chaos. Now, since Petyr had ignored all hints about going their separate ways for lunch, it seemed that the dress was just likely to start a fight.   
Sansa sighed deeply, tired to the bone. Her eyes drooped and, for a hot second, lingered longingly at shoulder level, where Sandor's muscles threatened to bust the seams of his worn work shirt. If he hadn't started bellowing yet, then maybe she wouldn't have to play referee.   
Then Bealish started talking. "You must be the Mr. Sansa Stark, that I've heard so much about." The natty little man followed his snide comment up with snooty a little titter to take the sting out of his words though Sansa suspected that was far from his true motive with either the greeting or the laugh.   
She caught a quick glimpse of her husband's battle grin before moving to put herself between the two men, facing the larger. Sansa did not particularly care if Sandor pasted Bealish to the wall, on a personal level, but she was sure that if her husband killed the Vale's money man, the deal that she'd been brokering for months would melt away and all their sexless nights would be in vain. She bounced up on her toes to land back on her heel, causing her boobs to shake, hoping to distract her husband. His steely eyes alighted on her chest for a moment but then captured her gaze in their molten depths.  
"Proud to be," Sandor rasped and his words going straight to her core, even as his right hand shot around her waist toward the smaller man. His smile spasmed deeper as his eyes caressed her face, then her throat, finally stopping at her breasts that were feeling the effects of his gaze and his praise. Sansa was basking in the knowledge that her husband truly did not care that she made three times what he did, or that following her dreams sometimes meant less time for him, or even that he had to take up the slack with the kids. Her pulse spiked, and she wished her husband was about to sweep her desk and have her on it. Once upon a time, that had been a weekly occurrence. The time that her father had walked into her office to find her with a $200 silk scarf jammed into her mouth unsuccessfully muffling the sound of her moans was the last time the Elder Stark had come to check on her during lunch when her door was shut. In fact, that day not too many years ago might have precipitated Ned's retirement plans. Today, they had Petyr to deal with. And besides, Sandor as too busy waking before dawn to run a construction company in a way that allowed him to stop mid-afternoon to chauffeur kids to extracurriculars to pop by for "lunch." She knew he had gulped down his midday meal in his truck somewhere between dance and katate everyday for at least the past two years so that the rest of the family could pursue their passions.  
She was jolted from her revery by the motion of the two men clasping hands, not throwing fists. That was a relief, at least. She turned on her most professional smile to face Petyr, her eyes scanning for any signs that he would need medical attention. The small man flexed his hand he but made no sounds of pain or outrage. Until he smirked up at her and said, "Your children must be giants."  
"They are a handful," Sandor rumbled as his hand fell to her waist. It was so large that his pinky stretched to trace the zipper of her dress. She hoped it was a solemn promise that he'd make use of the fancy gold closure later. Usually, Sansa would scorn such unprofessional behavior with a client in the room even if there was no way Bealish could see it. Today, however, she felt sure that Petyr had been about to proposition her, and she wanted the smarmy little man to get a sense of how happily married she was. She leaned her head on the curve of Sandor's pec.   
"Here's my key to the site," he breathed into her hair, gently scraping the warm metal across the exposed skin of Sansa's wrist before pressing it into her palm, so you can show…" Sansa could tell by the way the muscle slid beneath her head that Sandor had turned back to face Petyr. "What is your name?"  
"Petyr Bealish," the smaller man huffed. Sansa stifled a smile. She knew damn good and well that Sandor knew the other man's name. It had loomed large in most of her adult conversation for weeks. But she also she was not sorry to see Sandor put the little man in his place. Her office was, after all, littered with family pictures, in addition to the lovely yellow diamond perched on her heart finger, and it's accompanying gold band that sung out, "she's taken."  
"So you can show Bealish around the site," Sandor continued, "while I drop the giants at their various activities this evening." Sandor's eyes snagged hers, making all sorts of wicked promises. "Want to make sure they sleep sound tonight." Sansa was lost, for a long moment in a replay of Wednesday night. She'd been so close to cumming at the sink just watching the play of Sandor's muscles as his arms braced against her hips while he thrust with total abandon into her. That, coupled with the intensity of his desire, and the vulnerability with which he displayed it, could have her clenching in pleasure any other night. But that night she'd been so worried about getting enough sleep for her presentation the next day that when she got close, a nagging voice said she shouldn't be getting riled up like this before _needing_ sleep. And so she did a thing that she barely ever had, knowing how Sandor felt about lies. She'd faked an orgasm. And it had worked. Guilt and anger had made dismal shower mates after she'd turned down Sandor's offer of hair washing, mostly because she needed release, and she no longer wanted to share it with him. Once Sansa had conditioner in her hair and had two mins to kill, she called up the memory of Sandor's face in the mirror as he came. She cupped her breast in one hand as her fingers went to her still swollen folds. Sansa found her clit and recalled how full she'd felt not 15 mins ago as Sandor pumped in and out of her. This, what she'd done alone in the shower, was easy and safe, and Sansa knew precisely what to do and what to expect as she worked herself into a frenzy. "Oh Gods!" she gasped as she came. "Oh Sandor," she moaned more softly, as she pushed fingers inside herself to savor her own quivering response. Sansa was awash in a bittersweet sea of memory until Petyr cleared his throat.  
"I believe we are in danger of being late for the conference call." he scold-reminded her. Sansa blushed at being so inattentive. No wonder she could not work from home, as so many others did. "Mr. Hardying is not one to be kept waiting."  
"Oh yes, of course," Sansa said, as she gathered herself even as her phone line lit up. "I'll see you later." She mouthed to Sandor. Just before she picked up the phone and went through a perfunctory greeting. Sandor was backing out of the room. Once he was behind Bealish, he pointed to his eyes with his index and middle fingers and then at her midsection, which responded with a clenching swoop before Sandor turned on his muddy heel and strode out of her office, whistling the Bear and Maiden Fair. Sansa sighed wistfully half hopeful half apprehensive about what the evening would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok folks here you go. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you liked it. Most urgent question: is it relatable?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical evening with and atypical ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ain't gonna lie folks this one was hard to write. I'm sure it will be hard to read. I've only edited it through twice so there might be some typos, but I wanted to get it up for you.

Sandor turned down the heat under the steamed sweet peas before he started serving up the barbecued chicken that had been in the crockpot all day. This being Thursday, the pups were exchanging what they'd learned in their extracurriculars in the half-hour they had between getting home and sitting down to dinner. Sometimes this process was the most endearing thing Sandor had ever encountered, and sometimes it ended in screeching. They were good kids, coming close to adolescence he had to admit, though the thought terrified him, even as he longed for the day they wanted to sleep all day. As it was, they had a lot of interests, and it was Sandor's job to make sure they had the chance to pursue those interests.  
One of the ways he rewarded himself for doing that job was time at the gym while pups were doing their things. Today after he'd dropped them off, Sandor wrapped up for some quality time with the punching bag. After his near explosion at Sansa's office, he needed it. This week had been a fucking nightmare trying to get the site ready for the smarmy asshole's tour. That's why it was Thursday, and this was his first workout of the week. Sandor knew that was a dangerous game to play, but he'd had to field calls and actually go down to the gods damn site every other day this week and had even been late to pick the she-wolf up on Monday. He was never late. And just thinking about making his little girl wait made his hackles rise. SLAM, SLAM. Recognizing the spiral for what it was, Sandor took a deep breath and tried to punch his problems into the bag. Ideally, he would leave it all here and return to his truck relaxed. He fell into a trance of violence designed to empty him of aggression.  
Sometime later, the shower alarm buzzed in his pocket, and Sandor was still furiously pounding Petyr's smirk as sand was beginning to leak out of the bag. An ugly old dog like him would be stupid to care that his wife made more money than him. And his kids were the best thing he'd ever fucking done. And caring what jealous fucks like Bealish thought was beneath his alpha dignity. Sandor had not been a bit surprised to find out Sansa would not be changing her name when she married him. Her name was illustrious and written taller than he stood at the top of the tallest building in the North. His name was shit. He'd spent more than a decade of his life fighting with it Velcro-ed to his chest and could not say he was proud of a damn thing he'd done in all that time. _I might have even taken her name if she'd offered it. But she didn't._ SLAM. SLAM!  
With a start, he realized he'd fallen back into his fighting rhythm. He shoved his hand into his pocket to check his phone. "Shit," he said, tearing the tape off his knuckles with his teeth as he headed for the locker room. Not only was he not showering, but if karate class was not in this actual building, he would have been late for pick up --again.  
As it was, Sandor and his firstborn met each other coming out of different locker rooms. Quick-silver eyes took him in at a glance from skin to soul, and a worry wrinkle appeared between her dark red brows. Everyone thought that her eyes made his daughter look like her aunt, but only Sandor knew which one. He didn't blame anyone since he'd rather have his teeth pulled than talk about his sister. Sometimes the only thing that saved Arya from his drunken rages in the early days of their acquaintance was that she reminded him of his own little sister. The only picture of that tiny ghost was in his own mind, so he just nodded along with everyone else. He'd told Sansa about Elynor once -so she'd know why he had to get up and leave sometimes. It pained him that his serious, quiet daughter seemed to have inherited his sister's trait (he wished he could call it a survival skill) for reading those around her and adjusting accordingly to the merest shifts in mood. Guilt lashed Sandor's chest. He knew where this trait came from and had no further to look than the nearest mirror, which he did not do if he could help it unless Sansa was sharing the glass with him. "Fine, Sandy," he assured his daughter, as they fell into step, turning to the door as one.  
Sandor let out a relieved breath when they were on time to pick up Ely. He clambered up into the truck, chirping obliviously about the exciting new choreography that had been introduced that day, strawberry blond curls bouncing into Tully blues. Her brother's presence transformed Sandy. Within moments the backseat came alive with a back and forth chatter that Sandor could not entirely follow.  
The pups were not twins, but they were only a little over a year apart. If they didn't have their own language, they certainly had their own dialect that was difficult for their parents to understand and almost impossible for anyone outside the family to decipher. So far as Sandor could tell, they were making plans to exchange the information that each had learned today. There was a difference of opinion on who should go first, and they were wrangling back forth on all sorts of criteria from birth order to Ely's argument that warming up with dance would make what Sandy had to show him about fighting stick better. Sandy shot back that they were both already warmed up. Sandor bit back the urge to tell them to flip a coin, and have done with it. Sansa said that it was best to let them work it out themselves as it was good practice for conflict resolution.  
It went against everything in Sandor not to settle every fight his kids had himself, seeing how he would be a totally different man if someone had done that for him. He took a deep breath and turned up Dolly Parton on the radio. _Neither one of them is anything like Gregor,_ he reminded himself several times.  
It was several stop lights before Sandor realized the back seat had grown quiet. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and met his own silver stare. Sandy met his eyes solemnly, and he could see that she was holding her brother's hand. Ely was staring out the window, making little yodeling sounds. Sandor tried not hate himself for letting his mood affect his kids…again. He concentrated on the music and let it do its job, beating out the complex rhythm on the steering wheel, dashboard, and his cheek squelching out a fart noise at the end of the verse. Sandy smiled, Ely giggled, and the light turned green. The rest of the ride home had the pups piping along and Sandor playing percussion when driving permitted.  
The transition from car to house ran smooth, and Sandor went right to work, putting dinner together. Sansa would be home any minute, and he wanted her to have a seamless transition from work to home life so as preserve as much energy as possible. He tried not to get his hopes up, but the way she'd leaned against him and that dress… _But there's an even chance that dealing with that asshole all day has sapped her so, down boy._  
…  
Sansa pushed open the door to her home with what felt like her last iota of energy. The giggling patter of small feet perked her up even as she was surrounded by small hands and chirping welcomes. She was also assailed by tangy food smells that reminded her that she didn't get lunch today. Coming fully into the house shedding coat, purse, and satchel to see Sandor still in his workout clothes reminded her of the lunch she wanted.  
Needs and desires buffeted Sansa in a dozen directions, and though she was right where she wanted to be, she was also in acute discomfort. Sandy backed off, pulling her bother along with her. Sansa kissed each child on the head and presented Sandor with her cheek. She powered through the wave of his disappointment, telling herself she wanted him to want her and headed deeper into the house. "Let's everybody wash up so we can eat the delicious dinner I smell." She hoped that would signal to Sandor that she was not rejecting him, but needed to meet her needs in order of importance on a survival level.  
The children followed her into the powder room, and they sang the ABC's as everyone scrubbed themselves and each other in a frantic splash fest that might have made a Sansa with one extra fuck to give ask them to calm down and not splash Mama's work clothes. But after the way Petyr had eyed her in this dress, she planned on burning it, but only after she had the joy of Sandor removing it, preferably with his teeth. As if thinking of the man made her more aware of him, Sansa felt Sandor's molten gaze melt down her back as if the gold zipper were a channel for boiling metal. She looked up to see the barest sliver of his face observing the antics from the hallway. She wiggled her bum at him and winked. He licked his lips.  
Dinner was delicious, well spiced with love, hunger, and kid convo. Everyone ate all their food, so dessert was had by all, in the form of girl scout cookies and milk. Sandor followed Sansa into the pantry and shoved his tongue down her throat and his hand up her dress. She clung to him, unable to do anything but taste the salt on his skin and feel the swell and slide of his muscles as his hands roamed her body. Apart from swelling his sexy muscles, going to the gym brought Sandor peace. She leaned into that as if she could sponge it off of him somehow.  
He pulled back, a concerned look on his face. "You're tired."  
"I am," she allowed, "but not too tired."  
His wonderful face twisted into a grin fit to split his scarred face in half, and a little pang of hurt and dread pierced Sansa's heart. _Am I the worst wife ever, for so simple a statement to be like Sevenmas morning? No._ Sansa caught herself firmly, but she hoped kindly. _That is negativity creeping into your self-talk. You are a good wife, or he would not be so happy to see you._   
Sansa served desert with a smile of her own, then it was time for homework. Luckily the kids were at an age where the material was simple even if helping them complete it was not. They were both tired and becoming a little whiny, and the energy required to stay present and kind was staggering. Sansa wanted nothing more than to agree to a break or whine back at her children. Sandor, too, was becoming impatient.  
"Let's take a toothbrush break and come back," she sang out. It was a break that accomplished a bedtime step. Ely cheered, but Sandy looked hesitant. This would throw off her routine. "It is up to you if you want to take it, darling," Sansa assured her daughter.  
Ely was already marching down the hall, chanting "toothbrush break, toothbrush break!"  
"I think I will just keep working. I know it's my stuff that's taking so long," her daughter replied, forlorn. She was such a deep little thing.  
"We will get through it, no matter what," Sansa smiled at her daughter as she followed her son, who had begun calling for her.  
Sansa could hear the rumble of Sandor's voice as he and Sandy continued to wrestle with the new concept, as she and Ely sang a song they made up about the homework he was doing as he brushed his teeth. His blue eyes rounded and he looked so much like Rickon at that age. He spit out a mouth full of toothpaste. "Mommy, I got it!"  
He dashed down the hall tossing his still pasty brush onto the kitchen table in exchange for his pencil before scribbling madly in pursuit of his idea. Sandor and Sandy both gave the smallest member of the family identical dark, disgusted looked looks, but forbore saying anything. Sansa picked up the toothbrush and took it back to the bathroom for a good rinse. So much for a constructive break, but if the singing and marching triggered a breakthrough, it was well worth the mess.  
Soon after, it was really time to brush teeth. Sandy was not done with her assignment, but Sansa wrote a note to the teacher requesting more time explaining that Sandy was not understanding the method and may need some extra tutoring at lunch. She would go in early and have a chat with the teacher tomorrow.  
It was Ely's turn to pick the story, so it was Dragon's Love Tacos in Sandy's bed. Usually, Sansa took this time to cuddle and snuggle and soak in this quiet time with her kids. It was often the only quality time she got with them. Tonight, she speed read to them as much as she dared. Ely, who would normally have called her on this, fell asleep halfway through the book. Sandy just listened without comment petting Sansa's arm.  
As soon as the story was done, Sandor came in to drop a kiss on his daughter's head and scoop up his son to put him in his own bed.  
As soon as the door clicked shut, they were upon each other like wild animals. Open-mouthed, they crashed together tongues and hands questing. Sandor got a grip on her backside and lifted so the pointy toes of her Prada's skimmed the carpet so he could move her quickly down the hall to their bedroom. The door shut too loudly as he dropped her back on her own feet so he could pull his shirt off.  
"Sorry, not sorry?" he ventured, never really understanding what the term meant or what hashtags were even about.  
She giggled. If there was ever a man that lived the motto #SorrynotSorry it was Sandor Clegane, yet he had no concept of how trendy he is. "Yes. I believe it applies, but you will be sorry if Ely wakes up and demands the half the book he missed."  
"The Stranger take the little bugger, in that case," Sandor growled as he turned Sansa around to face the long oval dressing mirror across from the foot of their bed. Sansa laughed because she knew that Sandor would face the Stranger himself for his children, but understood the sentiment behind his oath. "Gods damn this dress, as pure torture. It covers every inch of you, but hugs every curve obscenely," he rasped as he ran his hands over her in a demonstration of obscenity. "I assume there is something special about it?"  
"You're reading my mind now?"  
"Just paying attention. You'd have had it off by now along with those bloody spiked heels unless you had something in mind. Tell me what you want, little bird," he rasped between licks to her ear that sent shivers down her spine."  
"It zips both ways. I-" she stopped, ducking her head and blushing. It had been so long since they had done more than have a quick shag. She suddenly felt shy. _I should have started with something simple._  
Sandor's roughened fingers wrapped her throat, not ungently, so she had to look at him. "I would walk through the Seven Hells for you, but I can't read your mind. Tell me what you want."  
"I was hoping you would take it off…um…with your teeth." Sansa could feel her pulse beating against his hand like a caged bird. The growl that reverberated through his chest only revving up the beats. He took the bright gold zipper between his pearly whites. She could hear each of the zipper's gold teeth let go as he pulled ever so slowly. Gods, watching this in the mirror was so hot. She could see every well-defined muscle clench and ripple as he slowly sank ever Southward. Surely, she'd be so hot by the end that she could cum with him this time instead of letting her anxiety freeze her. His hot breath in the wake of the zipper's slide was like a promise.  
Once Sandor uncovered her bra, he stopped to deal it. Still using nothing but his mouth, he bit the clasp, then using his clever tongue, he flicked the hooks loose from their eyes. Watching this in the mirror made Sansa's knees weak, and she ground her backside into the raging cockstand she could feel through Sanders gym shorts. His hands shot to her hips, and his mouth clamped the side of her neck gently with his teeth. "I could take you like this, hard and fast. It'd be over too soon for you, though, so don't tempt me." He gave her backside a smart slap so she'd know he meant business. The sting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to Sansa's core, and she remembered the nights when he used to do it. Those were rough times, and Sansa was not sorry they were gone, but she missed the rawness, the heedless, reckless abandon with which they both used to treat her body.  
Sansa whimpered. She hadn't heard that tone his Sandor's growl in a very long time, and she felt a gush of desire dampen her folds. He dropped into a crouch and the bottom zipper disappeared into his mouth. Sandor's hands went to her thighs and spread them as far as the dress would allow. He grinned around the zipper as he tugged up with his head and spread out with hands until he was standing again and she was spread eagle. The smoothness of the movement spoke of the grace and strength housed within her husband. Sansa knew she was going to have a crick in her neck from craning over her own shoulder to see the show, but the sight of Sandor moving over her bared flesh licking at the spot on her lower back just above her thong where the two zippers came together made her cunt pulse. She knew he'd moved to stand to the side so that she could have the visual of her seamed, lace topped stockings hugging splayed and shapely legs, beneath round cheeks now stamped with a red hand-print. And dipping between those cheeks, the bulge of her woman's place swollen with excitement and need. _Yes!_ She needed to make time to see this! Her center clenched so hard she could see it with the power of that revelation. Sansa sought Sandor's eyes in the mirror and mouthed, "please."  
He surged up around her, his hands and mouth everywhere. He was cursing the dress savagely between licks. "I'll never wear it again," Sansa panted, needing his mouth on her nipples yesterday. There was a tightness everywhere fabric touched, and the zipper dug pleasantly at her needy skin for a moment before she heard a ping and crack. Sansa's brain tried to worry, but the feeling of Sandor's mouth fastened on the tips of her tits was overwhelming. His hands were working between her thighs. Her center was contracting in preparation for an explosion. "Sandor, please. I want you inside me when I cum," Sansa begged.  
"Little Bird, I'm so fucking close. Ride my face," he demanded as he slid her panties over her hips.  
"I'm close too. I want to cum feeling you everywhere." It had been so long since they'd cum together.  
Sandor skimmed down his shorts and sat down at the foot of the bed. His cock was nearly purple with need. Sansa practically vaulted onto it in her eagerness to be one with him. "Gods, woman, you are going to be the death of me," he groaned as she impaled herself on him.  
"Suck, don't talk," Sansa said, abandoning her manners and all other pretenses beyond this primal urge to share joy with her mate.  
"Yes, ma'am!" Sandor growled before complying.  
Sansa began to bounce reveling in the feel of his cock bottoming out against her g-spot over and over, ratcheting her insides tighter and tighter. She looked down to watch Sandor licking her nipples just as he looked up at her. Their eyes locked, and Sansa felt the telltale clamp of his hand on her hip, bringing her down on him counter to the rhythm she'd found. "Fuck," he ground out around a mouthful of her breast, and Sansa could actually feel his dick pulse with the force of his orgasm. She was helpless to move in his rigid grip, and while he was locked in that eternal instant of ultimate satisfaction, Sansa's passion cooled. "Fuck," Sandor repeated as he bumped his sweat sticky forehead against her breast bone. "I'm so fucking sorry."  
Sansa's throat was tight, along with her eyes. She could feel him softening within her, and her jaw clenched. She tried to dismount. Sandor held her fast. "Tell me what to do. Please."  
"Let. Me. Go." His single brow climbed, and his hands sprang wide as if he had not realized that he'd been detaining her. Sansa scrambled out of his lap none to gently, and she felt a dark satisfaction in his grunt of discomfort. She headed for the shower in their adjoining bathroom without a backward glance.  
Instead of the hearing the satisfying click of being shut away, Sansa was treated to hum of the door bouncing off the foot Sandor had wedged between the door and the jamb, as it vibrated slowly inward. She caught it and held it as close to his foot as she could without causing him pain. She noticed for the first time he was still in his running shoes. They both knew who would win this contest, but Sansa was hoping that by holding firm, he would back down.  
"Sansa, please, let me help you," he said through the crack, making no attempt to enter the bathroom.  
"What makes you think that you can," she returned. Sansa knew she was being incredibly petty, but the abrupt end to her good time had put her in a foul frame of mind.  
"Years and years of practice. Please, Little Bird, I want to hear you sing from the same room." She gasped, stung with shame. He'd heard her the other night. She wondered if he'd been listening all the other nights too. "Look, I know a thing or two about feeling like you have to do everything yourself."  
"It's just easier this way."  
"I think it was you that pointed out to me that it is more fun with someone else."  
"It has," her voice caught on the ragged emotion and the truth just dribble out, "stopped being fun for me."  
There was a beat of horrified silence from the other side of the door. "Sansa, it was one time. I tried to tell you that I was too close…"  
"Don't you think I know this is my fault. I'm going to clean up my own mess."  
"Sansa, this is nobody's fault. It was just bad timing."  
"That seems like the only timing we have."  
*Click*  
*Shhhhhhhhhhhhh*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Did you like the look at the kids? Was the ending effective?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are going to get a glimpse of SanSan's earlier relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the trigger warning for contemplating suicide. I will put an *asterisk* around the affected sentence. Please find a summary in the end notes.

Sandor waited at the bathroom door for a few agonizing moments but turned to grab his pillow from the bed before he could catch any sounds of Sansa giving herself what he could not. He absolutely felt like shit for not giving her what she had so desperately wanted, but he'd done his best, as he held the pillow between his teeth to yank his shorts back up hit hips. He'd communicated his limits, and gone along with her demands. He really thought he was going to make it, but seeing the desire for him in Sansa's eyes was always his breaking point. He wondered if he'd seen it for the last time tonight, as he exited their bedroom. "It isn't fun for me anymore," bounced around inside him like bullet fragments trapped in a rib cage. Sandor saw the spiral for what it was and did his best to pull out of it. When he had been out of his mind with rage and insecurity, Sansa did the best thing she could and gave him space. Sandor could do the same for her, even though every badly healed wound in him wanted to break the bathroom door down and force a confrontation. He took a moment to be profoundly grateful that he was not that man anymore as he reached up to snag a blanket from the linen closet on his way to the couch.

A familiar pang of guilt assaulted him. Sandor was sure that he'd taught Sansa the survival skills she'd just exhibited. She'd come to him right out of a nightmare relationship; in fact, Sandor was supposed to have been the rebound, but still, she'd come to him relatively whole with her dreams of romance dimmed, but not blown out. He'd drown all those girlish fancies himself in gallons of bourbon, a rebound that overstayed his welcome on account of his big dick and quick, willing tongue, nothing more than a ticking time bomb. And when he'd finally gone off, he'd nearly torn both their lives apart. His first thought every morning upon waking with her hair in his mouth, or her cold feet jambed between his legs, was still that he was the luckiest fucking dog in the world because she'd given him a second chance, and he'd been strong enough to live up to it. _But at what cost to her?_

Sandor shifted his weight so that he could dig his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled way back in his recent contacts for his father in law's number. The man had given him the best advice of his life, and Sandor hoped Ned could do the same for his own daughter, though the Stranger knew that wasn't always the case.

As Sandor continued to scroll back in his contacts, his mind scrolled back to the muggy day of Sandy's gender reveal party.  
…  
Sandor was crouched in a corner of Winterfell's vast back lawn in the scarlet shade of the creepiest gods damned tree he'd ever seen. The leaves were blood-red even in high summer. The damned thing looked like it was weeping blood, and today it seemed to be smiling though Sandor swore the knotholes in the middle of the pale trunk were contorted in a different expression every fucking time he saw it. Sandor liked to sit next to the tree because it was the only thing he'd ever seen that was uglier than him.

He was nursing one of the worse hangovers of his long and storied drinking career with some hair of the dog thinking that getting sober was bullshit if all it was going to do was make the hangovers worse than before he fell off the wagon.

Sansa was a ray of fucking sunshine, her beauty, and happiness stabbing directly into his brain though she refused to make eye contact with him. Meanwhile, the little sister, who Sansa had been staying with since he started drinking again, was staring fucking daggers at him from above her snarky ass tee-shirt that read, "I'm only here for the sex." No one had said a fucking word to him beyond pleasantries, and that was fucking fine with him, he thought as he took another sip of his beer.

But that all changed when Ned ambled over and sat down beside him on another root out cropping. The man looked like he was taking a gods damned throne settling in the crook of some roots at the base of the tree. There was a radiant pride and content mien lining the older man's habitually grim smile. "Somewhere, there is a female think-tank coming up with ideas that sound fun but are actually male nightmares." The Northman had a deep, slow voice that allowed his words to become etched in a person's skull. Sandor didn't reply to his father in law's attempt at relatable small talk, so the other man continued to speak. "We go along with these things because we are scared shirtless that in the act of loving them, we might actually kill them." Ned's words kicked over a whole new box of horrors that Sandor hadn't even realized were lurking in his mind. His eyes shot to Sansa as his stomach churned loud with fear. Still he said nothing to Ned who seemed unperturbed and willing to continue his lecture. "I've been where you are, son. No matter what you think you know about your kids, they will surprise you. This is just the first of many."

Sandor turned his head gingerly to squint at his father in law. Ned might know the age-old fear of sending his woman to the birthing bed to battle to bring life into this world intimately, but this gleaming monument to benevolent patriarchy could never understand Sandor's dread at passing his own fuckery into the next generation. Or that in the grips of his greatest fear Sandor had suggested that Sansa have an abortion. There is no fucking way Ned knew the whole story and sat here beside Sandor sipping his beer.

On that day, when Sandor's worst fear got the better of him, Sansa had turned from him and walked out the front door of their apartment, stopping only to scoop up her purse. She left to stay with the she-wolf, who had come to his house the next day with a bottle of bourbon and told him she hoped he drown himself in it because the way he was acting the kid was better off without a dad than with him. The wolf bitch was one of his best fucking friends, and she'd wished the worst thing upon him. Sandor had said "my thoughts exactly" twisted off the cap and drown years of recovery in the first fiery gulp. He'd let the corners of his mouth, one whole, and one ruined, twist up and down respectively in his meanest smile and offered the bottle to Arya, purposely endangering her recovery. She'd called him a camel's cunt and stormed out. He'd gone on a bender that had ended in the county jail. ***More than once before being locked up, he'd put his gun in his mouth, but had not had the balls to pull the trigger.*** Once he'd sobered up in county, Sandor called his sponsor and been admitted to the psych ward for a 72-hour hold. Sandor spent those three days puking and coming to terms with beginnings and ends. They'd released him this morning. He wasn't even really sure what day it was.

He was sure Sansa had only invited him, via a note slipped under the door of an apartment where she used to live, to this fine slice of hell because she had not figured out how to tell her perfect parents that the asshole they'd warned her about was, in fact, leaving her to be the single mother of a monster. The rancor at Starks' judgment upon him poured out of his mouth, thusly, "What the fuck would you know about it?"

Ned seemed nonplussed by the profanity and only tilted his bottle slightly to point in the general direction of the tableau of domestic bliss that was his wife and kids all gathered around to cut a cake that would either be blue or pink on the inside. "Has Sansa never told you about me coming home from war with a baby?" There was a pause as Ned brought the bottle to his lips for a sip. Sandor knew that Sansa had a brother-cousin up at the Wall, but not a lot of details about the dark quiet man who acted so stiffly around her mother at their wedding. "Perhaps she is too young to remember the year that I lived at the office after I broke down and told Cat Jon is my sister's baby, and not mine. My wife was understandably irate that I'd let everyone think I'd cheated on her rather than break a promise to a family member." Sandor tried and failed to wrap his head around the thought that Sansa would fuck someone else even though he'd come damn close to bending a very willing bar tender over a pool table in one of his drunken stupors this past month. Suddenly the hair of the dog was tickling the back of his throat and he felt sure he was going to be sick. Ned's eyes roamed knowingly over Sandor and he invited him with a gesture to puke behind the tree. Sandor availed himself of the offer wretchedly. Ned waited quietly until Sandor was done and offered him a piece of gum. "Knowing Sansa, if she didn't tell you it's that she didn't want to taint your perception of me. Trust me, son, I know how to fuck up a marriage. But I also know how to unfuck one. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Sandor took the gum and folded it into his mouth. "I assumed the wolf bitch would have spread the tale far and wide." After heaving his guts up, Sandor was going for shock value in voicing his deepest fear, rather than admit to this man exactly what he'd done. 

"Arya," Ned said so very pointedly that it occurred to Sandor that Sansa's father was still a dangerous man in defense of his children, "told us what you said and what happened. Only you can tell me why."

Still in full avoidance mode, Sandor replied, "You sound like my court appointed shrink."

"No, I sound like my shrink." Sandor liked to think he had a pretty good poker face, but by Ned's chuckle, something on his ugly mug must have betrayed his surprise. "Yes, I have one, voluntarily," the older man continued, all the hard edges in his father in law's tone lost in the steady, brain-carving cadence of his words. "I went to war too. Mine was just as shitty as yours. But I'm tired of fighting. How about you?"

"So fucking tired," Sandor croaked. The infinite compassion behind Ned's words touched something in Sandor. It hadn't been his war that had fucked him up, but Ned didn't need to find out all his shitty secrets today. 

"Then stop," Ned urged.

"I don't know how," Sandor confessed.

"Let this child teach you."

"I'm afraid it's going to be like me."

"Then, be the person you want your kid to be like."  
…  
Sandor came out of his reverie to the sound of Ned answering the phone. "It's been too long, son. How the hell are you?"

"Ned, I need your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you guys like flash backs. There are going to be quite a few from here on out so that you get to see how they got to where they are. Do you like how the flash back looks in this chapter? I don't really want to italicize it, but I'm open to other suggestions. Also let me know what you think about this chapter.
> 
> Summary for asterisk: During Sandor's drunk time he contemplates ending it all, but when suffering from semi withdrawals feels that he was too cowardly to do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never do this, but...

So this is absolutely an update with no story. There just does not seem to be new story inside me right now. I am kicking something around though and I was wondering how you all would feel if I paused the this story and then fast forwarded them a few years into a Corona Lock Down with teenagers? I would make the new story second in the series. Let me know in the comments how you feel about it .Also comment on any areas or subject matter you'd like me to hit in a lock down senario. No promises, but it's always nice to know what you all are concerned about. I will be addressing opening their home to a couple of refugees. Also in comments tell me how you all are. How are your families thriving or surviving? How is fan fic getting you through?  
In answer to how fan fic is getting me through, I have been hitting up the SanSan classics. I will list my favorite classic SanSan stories to below in lieu of me actually posting a chapter this week. Keep in mind most of these are canon setting, but they are all brilliant. Even the ones that were never finished.

Northern Lights and Midnight Sun by ownsariver. If you like it hot, just read all their stuff.

Kingdoms at War by deathwalker. This one is not SanSan, but even so it is the best GoT fan fic I have ever read. If GRRM passes without finishing the books, this guy gets my vote for who should finish the books. Cannot recommend highly enough.

On the Safest Ledge by Fancy Kid. All her stuff is good, but this one will rip your heart out. This is the one that made me want to write fan fic.

These Scars We Wear by wonderland. This was my introduction to fan fiction.

Road to Nowhere by roguefox. This is my favorite fic ever. 

Wolf Girl in Braavos by swimmingfox. Caution, you may wet yourself a little. The funniest fic I've ever read.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you all think of the time frame? Clearly they are married with at least two kids. I a have deliberately left it vague. Do you all like it like that or do you want to me to zoom in on ages and stuff? If so how long should they have been married? What ages should the kids be? No promises as I do not love writing about kids, but if enough of you want to see that I will give it a whirl.


End file.
